The Mochi Quandary: The Snowball Who Loved Me
by MomotsukiNezumi
Summary: Belarus has had an unrequited romantic interest in Russia for decades. An accidental bit of magic from the Nordics gives Russia the chance to get his sister off his back. She just wants to be loved. The snowball just wants to be warm. A snowstorm might just help bring her what she wants, even if only a little bit.


There was an audible slam of the thick steel door, the horrific sound of nails scraping and scratching furiously at the cold metal as a beautiful, yet terrifying voice took up a familiar chant of _"Marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me..." _

Despite his considerable size and strength, the tall, imposing nation known as Russia was terrified out of his wits at the presence on the other side of the door. Why, one might ask? The person on the other side was none other than his younger sister Belarus, known to some as Natalya.

Now, most people would think that to be frightened of one's own little sister was rather extreme, especially seeing as Russia was currently hiding in one of his home's freezer rooms to hide from her. Surely, you may wonder, the situation couldn't be _that _bad.

These people were the ones that didn't know his sister like he did. After all, for decade after decade now, his sister had been trying to force him to "become one" with her, and had been living under the impression that they loved each other and were to be married. Now, this was, as bizarre as it sounded, partially true. He did love his little sister, but _only_ as a sibling, the way big brothers in many families loved their sisters. He was also very, very terrified of her.

The fact that his sister's government had not been the best in recent years did not help matters; the problems with her governing body had left Belarus...less than mentally sound, and it seemed to have warped her feelings for him even worse than before, which had already been dramatically bolstered by the close proximity of personifications who'd lived at Russia's house during the years of the Soviet Union.

Dreams of one day regaining some semblance of those early years of existence with his sisters were all but futile now. It was such a pity too, they were the only family he really had, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could still remember when Belarus had been saner, still the adorable little sister who begged for her big brother Russia to give her piggyback rides when the soles of their shoes ran thin enough that the cold snow of wintertime could be felt by her tiny feet. He could see it in his mind's eye now, a little girl with nothing but sweet sisterly affection for himself and their sister Ukraine, and still able to stare at the world with something other than disinterest, paranoia, or dislike...

The scratching at the door started up again. Russia's reminiscing stopped immediately.

"Come on out, big brother! I know you're just nervous, but I won't hurt you. Come out, come out, so that we can be married!"

Russia stared at the ceiling of his freezer, curled into a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees. _Please, if there's anyone out there listening, HELP ME! _

The scratching was worsening, the sound of metal being scraped off becoming horribly loud, and Russia wondered if the torment would ever end. He didn't want to marry his sister, but he didn't know how to get her to understand. He'd tried explaining so many times, and every response had been either of denial of the truth of his words, or simply another reason to spur her advances onwards again because she thought he was "playing hard to get".

Russia may be scared of her, but Belarus was still his little sister, and he didn't want her to be unhappy. But what could he do, when she was so terrifyingly determined? How could he change her mind about marriage to him? How could he get her to understand that he couldn't, and wouldn't love her the way she so desperately demanded from him?

Perhaps...if he couldn't convince her to call off marriage and stop pursuing him, he could distract her. If he gave her a companion or an interesting enough present, maybe she'd become so enthralled with her beloved big brother's gift that she'd become focused on it instead of him.

But what could he get her that would keep her occupied? If it wasn't a wedding present or an engagement ring, he seriously doubted she would be interested in it permanently.

_So what could it be...?_

The answer came, quite unexpectedly, several days later, in the form of an impromptu "gift" (i.e. piece of unwanted material, likely garbage) handed to him by a rather frightened-looking Finland, who disappeared back to his sleigh, flying off only moments later. Russia had been confused by his neighbor's sudden appearance at his doorstep; Finland's interactions with him, up until that point, had been limited to Christmas present deliveries, World Meeting conferences, and past historical conflicts.

However, that didn't mean that the package didn't interest him. He took the package back inside, setting it on his kitchen table and studying it: the box, the sizable rectangular kind used to store shoes in, was made of thick cardboard, and wrapped up in a way that suggested that the job had been hastily done. There were a series of holes punched into one side, as if to let in air. The wrapping paper was a bright, sunny yellow, the color of sunflowers, and, upon opening the box up, he found a massive load of white foam packing peanuts, on top of which was a messily scribbled note.

_Russia,_

_If you are reading this, the package from Finland arrived without incident. Hopefully, this thing won't be much trouble for you. Norway was doing some kind of his magic mumbo-jumbo with England and Romania to summon "snow demons" to talk with, since he's apparently convinced this month's weirdly harsher snowfall is because we upset them or something. Anyway, somehow the spell went wrong and he ended up animating a pile of snow outside his front yard instead, and it drove us nuts. And to be honest, it was kind of creepy, too. Sealand got nightmares for a week because he'd wake up at night and find it sitting on his chest, just staring at him, like it was watching him sleep or something. It just wouldn't stop looking at us and following us everywhere, and then Denmark got mad because it drank all of his alcohol and then complained that there was no more vodka. _

_We weren't sure what to do with it, to be honest, but there was nowhere else it would agree to go to. Please make sure it's kept in a cold environment, and gets plenty of food. And don't take it's vodka bottle, or it might try to eat your fingers._

_Good luck,_

_The Nordics_

_P.S. Norway says to be careful when it looks at you for too long, or it might try to get close to you to stay warm. It's always shivering and asking to warm up, but it doesn't seem to realize that if it gets too hot, it'll melt. Don't let it near the fireplace, ok?_

He stared at the box in confusion. What in the world could be in that shoe box that could prompt it to be sent over a hundred miles away, as if it contained something evil? Perhaps it was a cursed object or something, like Busby's Chair. He missed that chair, it was quite comfortable. But this box wasn't big enough to hold anything bigger than a stack of plates or an old clock.

_What could it be...?_

His question was answered only a moment later, when the box's contents suddenly began to move, the packing peanuts spilling out onto the table as a strange creature slowly appeared, peeking curiously out with large violet eyes. Russia blinked in confusion;those eyes looked like his...

Taking a step back, he decided to watch and see what happened.

The creature slowly burrowed out of the packaging peanuts, emerging as a large greyish-white blob, almost the color of snow. The color, Russia decided, was silvery, a bit like dirty snow instead. There looked to be a face of some sort on the front, made of a pair of big violet eyes, and a smiling mouth, and some sort of bump on the front that looked rather like a nose.

Russia stared, and stared, and stared some more. The bizarre creature sitting on his table looked just like _him. _

He was suddenly struck with a great, crazy, mad, wonderful idea.

_Looks like I might have finally found something to distract Natalya with..._

By the next day, Russia had managed to make a suitable carrier for his sister's new "present", in the form of a thicker box with foam padding as well as more packing peanuts. As a bit of an afterthought regarding the Nordics' letter, he added a tiny bottle of vodka inside as well. On the outside, written quite large as emphasis as to who sent it, was a signature from Russia, saying it was being sent as his annual family gift to her. He knew she wouldn't question it, since their sister Ukraine got a yearly present also.

He looked into the box, staring at the little creature that looked back at him gravely, its body trembling slightly. He knew why: he'd debriefed the creature on its new mission as his sister's "present", and he could tell that the little fellow wasn't happy. He hadn't lied about the nature of the mission after all, there would be no point in sparing any details for such a dangerous assignment. Apparently his sister was just as terrifying to the creature as to himself.

_Great minds think alike, I suppose._

He patted the blob on top of its squishy body. "Be brave, comrade, be brave. You are going to be in for hell."

The creature whimpered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SEVERAL DAYS OF PROCESSING LATER~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natalya Arlovskaya, personification of Belarus, was not a fool.

She knew her brother did not love her, at least not how she loved him. She knew that the mere sight of her struck fear into his heart, that he would never admit that he loved her. He'd never agree to marry her. He'd never return the words she'd so faithfully recited to him over the years, even when everyone else was gone, and the USSR dissolved, and Russia's house bereft of company again. He'd never accept her companionship. He hadn't accepted her love since they were little, and that love had not been this love. He didn't understand how much she loved him. He only found such love to be frightening.

She knew this, and deep down, beneath her icy exterior, this knowledge hurt. But she'd never say so.

To admit it, after all, would be a weakness. The world didn't tolerate weakness! At least not in her country. Her people were strong, and she represented her people. There were enough odds stacked against her country already, given the conflicts between government censorship, and free speech, and international criticism of the problems with human rights and media suppression.

But she would not fall to those problems. She may falter, but she wouldn't fall. There was no one she really trusted enough to catch her, after all. No one else cared enough to.

She sighed, leaning back against the frame of her armchair. The wind rattled the window panes, howling like a savage beast outside, as a thick flurry of blinding snow whirled around her house. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked softly, breaking the monotonous silence. The fire crackled and hissed behind the metal grate, spitting tiny sparks of hot light across the hard floor. _  
_

There was a sudden chiming from the front door. Startled, she looked up. _Who would come all the way out here in the middle of a snowstorm? I thought that the roads up here were closed today from the snowfall. There's no human crazy enough to come here unless they were lost, and the other nations..._

They wouldn't come here. No one ever came here, except her brother and sister, and even then that was rarely, and the visits were always too awkward, too full of conflicting feelings and silences that stretched out conversations into tedious, unhappy talks. No one liked talking to her, they thought she was crazy. She was the crazy girl with an unheathy obsession with her older brother, who had a "bad-seed" government, who had so many issues with politics and human rights and the economy that getting involved with her would inevitably end in disaster.

She lived alone. But that was all the more reason to be cautious when something like this happens.

Deciding to arm herself in case the person at the door was dangerous, Natalya took hold of the hilt of one of her daggers, stil sheathed in holsters on her legs. She never went anywhere without them, a lifetime of struggle had forced her to rely on them the way she couldn't bring herself to rely on people. The daggers had stayed, when everything else went up in smoke, and the USSR crumbled, and her brother ran away from her, and her sister would cry when she talked to her, and her government silenced her people, and her people went up in revolt. The blades were a constant; she took care of them, they returned the favor.

She went to the door, and peered through the peephole. There was a box on her doorstep. Why would there be a box on her doorstep? No one, aside from her siblings, ever sent her presents. Gifts to her were rare enough to be considered once in a blue moon experiences, and even then, they were often mostly formal, given to the country as a symbol of goodwill, not to the Belarusian herself. She'd never gotten close enough to anyone in recent years to get anything other than clothes or knife polish.

There was writing on the outside of the box. She looked closer, recognizing her brother's handwriting instantly. _Big brother sent me a present? It isn't time for the annual gift yet..._

The box trembled, vibrating madly. Natalya felt a slight twinge of surprise; her brother had gotten her something _alive_?

But there were no air holes in the box, at least from what she could see. Whatever was inside would suffocate without fresh air to breathe.

_Well, if this really is big brother's present to me, I'd better go get it. He doesn't give me a present very often, and if I don't do something, this year's gift will end up suffocating or freezing to death._

Taking her heavy winter coat from the rack by the door, she pulled the protective garment on, braced herself for the feeing of the cold, and opened the door. The frigid, screeching wind blasted her with icy flakes of snow, but her attention was only on the box and whatever was inside it. She had to save it, the snowstorm would surely kill whatever was inside it otherwise.

Pocking up the box and securing it firmly in her arms, she darted back into the house, shutting the door behind her and locking it for good measure. The coat was put back on the rack by the door, and she instantly headed for the living room. As she'd often spend most of her time there, that was where the light was best. She wanted to see the full glory of her gift.

Carefully setting the package down in front of her, she began to look it over, examining every inch. The urge to simply rip the paper off and pull out the contents was strong, but she could wait. She wanted to savor the pleasure of such a rare occurrence as this.

Neatly pulling the sticky tape tabs off the wrapping paper, she pulled the box out of its wrappings and dug her fingers into the seam between the two box flaps. The cardboard held for only a moment before yielding to the strength of her nimble fingers.

She stared in shock as she beheld the creature sitting inside the makeshift nest of foam peanuts. _This...this looks like, like...him...but why?_

"P-Privet...", came the soft, terrified, hesitant whisper of the strange blob. The Belarusian was so shocked that she had to force herself to remain steady, instead of falling over in shock. The voice coming from the creature was the voice of her big brother, of Russia, of her beloved Vanya.

A strange feeling bubbled up inside her; it took a moment for her to realize that it was happiness. Russia had sent her something like himself. She had a bit of him now, a bit all to herself.

But it was scared of her. She looked at it, and wondered why. And before she knew it, the question came forth.

"Why are you frightened of me?"

The creature stared at her for a moment, fear still painfully visible in those violet eyes she so adored, and answered quietly, as if afraid of her reaction. "He told me I'm your new present. But he said you were scary..."

Natalya stared. This strange little thing hadn't even so much as even _seen _her before, but it was already frightened of her. But she would not get angry, she could not get angry, not at this creature. Not at her present. Not when it stared at her with those big, deep, violet eyes...

"You do need to be afraid of me, I will not hurt you. Big brother gave you to me, so you are special. I will take care of you."

The creature merely gave her a scared look, and burrowed itself into the packing peanuts, as if to hide itself from her. The Belarusian resisted the urge to pull it out and make it talk to her. There was, after all, nowhere else to go, and she could be patient. She could wait. She would win the affections of her new present, she was sure. She'd been trying to win Russia's affections for years, so this surely would not be so different. She just had to be patient, that was all.

With this in mind, she decided to let it have some time alone, while she went to go make dinner. Perhaps her present would warm up to her if she cooked it some homemade food...

Borscht, that was it. She would make hot borscht with tomatoes and beets and carrots and sour cream, and some nice bread to accompany it. She'd made some _pampushki_ yesterday, little rolls of bread that could be heated and topped with a sprinkling of fresh chopped garlic.

The kitchen was soon warm and well-lit, the stove on, cooking a pot of the borscht, the hearty smell filling the air. She hummed softly under her breath as she chopped carrots to add to the borscht. Salt and pepper were sprinkled into the mixture, and a handful of chopped potato chunks as well. Thick clouds of steam filled the air, fogging the kitchen windows up.

She was acting quite unlike herself, but she didn't care. She'd gotten a present. She'd gotten _company._

Somewhat forced company, but that was besides the point. She hadn't been in such good spirits in a while, and she wanted to make it last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~WHEN THE BORSCHT IS DONE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the food had been prepared, she set the meal onto the metal serving tray from the kitchen cupboard. Steam wafted off the hot soup as she carefully balanced everything. The smell was maddeningly enticing.

Sitting down carefully on the floor, she sat cross-legged, the tray put between herself and the box. She peered into the box to check on her present: the little creature was huddled in a corner at the bottom of the box, buried underneath a small mountain of foam peanuts. Despite this insulation, it seemed cold, shivering every other moment or so.

Natalya frowned. She'd been so busy with her cooking that she'd left her present all alone, without even bothering to make sure her new housemate was comfortable. She remembered that Russia had always been cold, and wore his coat all the time to try to keep as warm as he could. Perhaps her new "pet" was the same way?

She remembered the scarf she'd gotten from Russia's house only a few months back. He'd gotten the scarf from their sister as a Christmas present the year before, but he'd ended up with a huge, ugly tear in it after wearing it during a bar fight with America over Sputnik vs. the Apollo 11. Natalya knew that if she got hold of that scarf, she could repair it, and then her brother would be grateful to her. She'd hoped that he might appreciate her kind gesture, and perhaps realize, unlikely as it was, that she really did love him.

She'd even sewn, by hand, a few clusters of bright, tiny sunflowers onto the bottom edges of the scarf, knowing how much he loved the beautiful yellow flowers. The tear in the scarf had been repaired carefully, with such precision that no hint of the damage could be seen; the cost had been numerous pricks on her fingers, and drops of blood, but she had thought it would be worth it, to see the look on his face. Yet when she'd tried to give it to him at the last World Meeting, he'd run off, white in the face and babbling for her to stay away from him.

The scarf had been stuffed into the trunk at the end of her bed, left to gather dust ever since. Sometimes she'd take it out and take a whiff of the scent she had memorized so many times, breathe in a hint of the smoky, dark musk tinged with vodka and gunpowder and the sharp tang of metal and blood, the cold, crisp scent of newly fallen snow, the faint hint of the sunflowers kept in crystal vases full of melted snow water in his house, the only semblance of light in the gloomy abode.

She studied the creature in front of her, still shivering in the box. Perhaps the scarf would be appreciated. She got up and retrieved the scarf from the trunk, brushing off the dust and fluffing up the material to be a bit softer. Her present deserved the best, after all.

When she'd gotten back to the box, her new housemate was shivering at the box, violet eyes wide with fear as she approached. Natalya sighed inwardly, before gently scooping her present out of the box and cocooning it in the scarf, making sure to wrap the material around enough that the scarf fit like a glove around the soft, squishy body. She held the scarf and it's new passenger in her hands for a while, letting the warmth of her hands seep into the material and start warming her present up.

The creature began to give her a look of fear when she'd picked it up from the box, but the fear soon melted away, replaced instead by dawning happiness as the scarf cushioned it in gentle warmth. A soft coo could be heard, as it snuggled into its new "nest".

Natalya gave a faint smile as she took in the sight, before remembering the borscht. The food was still warm, so if her present liked the scarf, surely the food would make it happy too, right?

She took a spoonful of the bright red soup, bringing it up close to her present. "Go on, eat it. It's good." The food was accepted, albeit a bit hesitantly, and violet eyes lit up in happiness as the taste registered. "It's good!"

As the food was quickly devoured by her new housemate, she wondered what to call it. Perhaps a name suited for her brother's strong, impressive stature?

No...this was not her brother, not really, anyway. But since it was from him, perhaps she could, maybe, just maybe...pretend. Just a bit.

"Vanya," she said decisively, staring at her present. "You are Vanya now, got it?"

Her present looked up at her. There was no fear in that violet gaze anymore, just a timid, soft happiness, and, to her delight, an ever so slight bit of trust. The newly named Vanya nodded, snuggling into its new scarf. "Da! You...you are not so scary. This scarf is nice and warm, and the borscht is good here. And you have been nice to me. Perhaps he was wrong about you. You will become one with me, da?"

Natalya smiled, the words meaning filling her heart with a gentle warmth. "Da."


End file.
